Sunday, December 2, 2012

A Bee's Night Before Christmas

A Bee’s Night Before Christmas
It was the night before Christmas
And all through the hive
Bees were clustered together
Keeping warm and alive.

Three pairs of stockings
Were glued up for each bee
In the hopes that Santa
Would put gifts under a tree.

Each young bee was snuggled
Way deep in her cell
Dreaming of a honey flow
That the older bees knew well.

The queen was in her chamber
Guard bees sleeping close by
All of them as excited about Christmas
As a swarm on the fly.

The night was clear
The new moon was bright
Everyone knew for certain
Santa would be there that night.

When up on the roof
There rose such a clatter
The queen went with the guards
To see what was the matter.

On the roof they could see
A sleigh full of toys
Most of them for workers
Only one or two for the boys.

Eight bumblebees had been pulling
They made it look hard
Would Santa have the time
To reach each bee yard?

The driver’s face was red
From the cold (I suppose)
And icicles hung down
From the tip of her nose.

Her eyes were coal black
Her mouth made for smiles
She looked a little weary
She had traveled for miles.

Her coat was real thick
Made to keep her warm
Her wings were slightly tattered
From a late summer swarm.

She was quick as she placed gifts
Near where each bee lay
Then she pulled a beautiful tree
From off of her sleigh.

With a wink she said,
“These bumblebees are tired.
I’m looking for workers
Who want to be hired.”

Six volunteers jumped up
(they refused any money)
So she promised they’d receive
Extra stores of honey.

They darted out of the hive
And while they were in sight
Santa Bee buzzed, “A golden Christmas to all,
And to all a good night!”

Over almond orchards and clover
They flew on their way
They finished their task
Before Christmas Day.

Baby Bee's Night Before Christmas

Baby Bee’s Christmas
The hive was snug from the lid to the base.
The entrance was wide open for Santa, (just in case).
All the cracks had been sealed to shut out the cold.
Baby Bee was sleeping and good as gold.
The queen had inspected each and every frame,
Then she lined up her children and addressed them by name.
The youngest ones she checked closely and their noses she wiped.
“Is everything ready for Christmas?” she piped.
“If the decorations are finished, leave on a small light.
Santa Bee will be arriving sometime tonight.”
She ordered a plate of honey and pollen so Santa could be fed.
Then she hugged all her babies and tucked them in bed.
All were sleeping soundly when they heard such a clatter.
Santa Bee had arrived in the midst of a swarm.
His cheeks were all red and he looked very warm.
Dispensing gifts from his sleigh as he raced through the hive,
He was interrupted by a question, “Mr. Santa, can I drive?”
The other bees were shocked that Baby Bee would ask.
Santa Bee chuckled and let her help with his task.
All around the world this magical swarm flew.
Bringing sweet gifts to everyone they knew.
As they left each hive and while they were still in sight,
Baby Bee would shout, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Saturday, December 1, 2012

My Son, Listen to My Words of Wisdom (Part 2)

My Son, Listen to My Words of Wisdom (Part 2)
My son, the time for choosing friends is ripe,
First, you can tell a tiger by its stripes.
A friend can fool you when he growls or talks.
You can discover more by the path he walks.
Others will know you by the friends you choose.
If you don’t pick winners, someday you’ll lose.
If a friend observes danger but pretends he’s blind,
You would be wise if another friend you’d find.
A friend will always tell what is true,
Even when the truth might hurt you.
A friend is there to watch your back,
And he will reason with you if wisdom you lack.
A friend will help when there’s nothing to gain.
A friend will listen and share your pain.
He’ll be there always even unto death.
But a fair weather friend has wasted your breath.
If he doesn’t want you to be better, he’s not a true friend.
Like a drowning swimmer, he’ll pull you down at the end.
Someone who always flatters you has a concealed goal.
He’s shallow and self-serving and playing a role.
Beware if he’s not loyal all the way through.
He’ll sell you out and then desert you.
A friend is there all life to share.
So choose wisely, son, a true friend is rare.
My son, as for girls, your future is bright.
You’ll find contentment if you treat one right.
A girl needs thoughts of love to fill her day.
If she has love she has less reason to stray.
A girl’s world is different from the one you know.
Relationships and emotions help her bloom and grow.
Look in her eyes each and every day.
Her feelings are important. Listen to what she has to say.
Don’t be afraid to show a little romance.
Hold her in the moonlight and laugh and dance.
Your thoughts will remain positive, son,
If you count your blessings one by one.
Tell her she’s beautiful and just what you need,
Then it’s like dancing and you’ll have to lead.
Don’t look for things she might do wrong.
Mention what she does right. Then move along.
There will be days when your cup is half full.
Choose to be positive and life won’t get dull.
Surprise her with flowers, whether picked or bought.
Keep your romance smoldering and the flames hot.
Kiss her each night before you sleep.
A kiss will remind her your love is deep.
Whisper sweet words as you hold her near.
And the wisest of all, son, always be sincere.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Honey Bee

Honey Bee
He slowly approached the bee hives,
Observing the endless streams of flight.
The honey bees deserved his attention,
But he wondered, What is she doing tonight?

He put on his hat and accompanying veil,
To provide protection from stings to his face.
He lit up his smoker and then eased it down.
Would I be welcome if I stopped by her place?

Prying open a lid he sent in a few puffs of smoke.
The bees calmed down and moved away,
While he checked each frame for the queen.
What could I bring to brighten her day?

The queen was perfect, undamaged and full.
In the summer this hive would be strong.
There would be supers of golden honey.
 He’d get sweet rewards if nothing went wrong.

As he carefully reassembled the frames,
One worker flew out and stung his wrist,
Was that a portent of things to come?
Would he be crossed from her list?

As he worked through the remaining  hives,
He was distracted by a disturbing thought.
If he was determined, would love find a way?
Because she was well worth any battles fought.

In his beat-up car he sped wearily to her house,
Hoping he could see her without being seen.
On her porch he would leave a bottle of honey,
With a note saying, TO MY QUEEN.

Plans concerning love can sometimes go awry.
Honeyed words often remain frozen on lovers’ lips,
And love not claimed can be lost for all time,
Sailing swiftly away like a phantom ship.

In front of her house he parked his car,
And placed the honey up on her porch.
Before he could leave she raced outside.
He wasn’t the only one carrying a torch.

She was perfect, just right for his queen.
Ripe and willing, she was waiting for her king.
Their future was golden and offered sweet rewards.
Though they had little, they had everything.

Friday, November 2, 2012

One Lonely Dragon

One Lonely Dragon, Magic and Tough

Once I yearned to be magic and tough,
But I was left to wonder what my status is,
Though life’s a stage to strut my stuff,
I knew I’d never make it in show biz.

I was the wall flower, intense and shy,
Entering from stage left, or was it right?
Left out of the popular group, the other guy,
For everything I got, I had to fight.

So I became a dragon from medieval days,
You knew I was there.  I had a mighty roar,
But dragons are the ones who everyone slays,
If I wasn’t careful, I’d be doomed forevermore.

I could be in a crowded room, invisible to all,
Pretending that I’d asked someone to dance,
Yet even then my courage would hit the wall,
For lonely dragons only get one chance.

There must be a lady dragon waiting somewhere,
Although time drags on and it’s getting late,
I’m still invisible and no one can find me here,
I’m breathing fire and I don’t want to wait.

And the days drag on, and the nights grow cold,
I still remain a dragon, but just on the inside,
Watching the modern knights who are so bold,
While I sit steaming in my tough old hide.

With a Breeze in the Back

With a Breeze in the Back

“One lump or two?” I heard the nurse say,
My heart began pounding twice as fast,
I wasn’t mentally prepared on that fateful day,
I thought, This day could be my last.

From his office into the clean crisp air,
Escaping because I was upset and afraid,
Suddenly I realized that I was almost bare,
And in front of the Thanksgiving parade.

I couldn’t decide exactly what to do,
 I still wore my gown with a breeze in the back,
 I was embarrassed and a little cold too,
But I was in the parade, the leader of the pack.

My mind was numb and I lost my fear,
And I began to relax and wave,
The crowd roared and began to cheer,
For they thought I was extremely brave.

High stepping and saluting to the crowd’s delight,
I marched past the judges’ stand,
I was in my glory and in full sight,
I won a trophy for most spectacular in all the land.

I led that parade down a frontage street,
Until I marched into the doctor’s office again,
I entered and had just taken a seat,
When the doctor rushed in with a grin.

He asked, “Have you been waiting long?”
As he spent two minutes looking over my chart,
“Well I marched in a parade and wrote a song.”
He squinted and said, “Patience is an art.”

“Doc, I need to know.  Was it one lump or two?”
“Why would you want to know that?
I want my coffee sweet so two lumps will do,
My wife would kill me.  She thinks I’m getting fat.”

Two lumps of sugar had been my downfall,
I had led a parade where everyone could see,
It hadn’t been my lymphatic glands at all,
 It was sugar that almost killed me.

In the doctor’s office listen to what he says,
Don’t jump to conclusions if you’ve found a little bump,
Unless he shows you the x-rays,
Let his coffee contain the lump.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Melt My Heart of Stone

Melt My Heart of Stone!
When my daughter was only three,
She was as independent as can be,
On the playground she could hear me calling,
“Wait for me!  I don’t want you falling.”
But she would race toward the slide,
Even at that tender age she had pride,
“Me do it!” she would stubbornly insist,
She refused my help and would resist,
Hardheaded and independent, (just like her father).
So why should I try to help?  Why even bother?
As the years passed by, I didn’t get any wiser,
I didn’t save love and I didn’t become a miser,
I didn’t seek truth from wise men near and far,
I relied on myself to follow a distant star,
“Me do it!” I shouted to the heavens above,
“Why do I need help to learn the ways of love?”
Fair maidens passed often in the depths of night,
But their hearts were broken, sad was their plight,
I was too independent so I remained alone,
Hard-headed but sad, my heart turned to stone,
Who could open her heart and give me a chance?
Who could love enough to spark new romance?
I learned to accept help from any source I can,
I became less difficult; I became a calmer man,
With years of experience I became smarter too,
I decided not to rely on me; I wanted to depend on you,
Working and playing together as a team,
We could turn my world into a better dream,
Man was not meant to be alone,
“Help me please; melt my heart of stone!”

But She Forgot

But She Forgot
When her boyfriend broke up with her,
Cried on my shoulder,
Walked with me by the lake,
Talked for hours about all the things they did,
Wanted me to be there just to hear her breathe,
But she forgot I was there.

When she met the man of her dreams,
Told me how special he was,
Wanted me to meet him,
Insisted I go shopping with her to buy him gifts,
Asked me to help her write love poems (for him),
But she forgot I had feelings too.

When he became too busy to be with her,
Wouldn’t talk to anyone for days,
Partied every weekend with her girl friends,
Claimed I would be her best friend forever,
Moved in with a roommate,
But she forgot I cared.

When she became pregnant,
Needed me to take care of her,
Said I would be her son’s godfather,
Told me all the things we would do together,
Said she wanted to be independent,
But she forgot I had always been there for her.

When her boyfriend beat her up,
Lost her baby,
Insisted she still loved him,
Asked me to mind my own business,
Said I should stay away,
But she forgot my heart was broken.

When she was dying,
Looked very pretty,
Said she was sorry,
Wished that she loved me,
Left a note asking me to take care of her son,
But she forgot she didn’t even have to ask.

Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?
I often heard my children ask, “Are we there yet?”
On a trip we had just begun,
That was their way of saying,
They weren’t having any fun.

When I consider we’re all kids,
Traveling the same kind of road,
“Are we there yet?” means to me,
Someone is tired of his load.

We live in a smug cruel world,
Where we claim everything is under control,
But it’s time we search our hearts and ask,
Have we really reached our goals?

We haven’t found the ways to peace,
Though we tried with flowers in our hair,
Even SGT. Pepper could not stop the wars,
Even though we tried to care.

A white horse appeared on a cloud,
Its rider clutched a bow,
Representing conquest and a destructive force,
Sending peace reeling with a mighty blow.

Famine spreads across the land,
While food supplies dwindle down,
Animals and people fight to live,
But little grows on bloody parched ground.

A black horse stepping high,
With weighing scales at his side,
Famine strikes fear in all hearts,
While hope disappears worldwide.

A fiery horse gallops with color aglow,
Mass slaughter is his game,
His rider lets persecution and pain go free,
War is still the one to blame.

Pestilence still sweeps the world,
While we turn our heads in vain,
Trying to ignore terrible diseases,
That keep third world children in pain.

Death still stalks each of us,
We won’t leave this world alive,
But couldn’t we try to slow death down,
Allowing us a few more years to thrive.

Astride a pale horse with sunken eyes,
The Grim Reaper wears a grin,
He scans the earth looking for those,
Who have already died within.

Are we there yet?
It’s a question we should ask,
Have we done all we can possibly do,
Before we give up our chosen task?

The Four Horsemen continue to ride,
Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death,
With sword and gun they sweep the land,
And steal each feeble breath.

Are we there yet?
The question echoes on,
We can’t stop to boast or reset,
Until the battles are won.

Miles of Travel and Roadside Stands

Miles of Travel and Roadside Stands
Bouncing along in my old sedan,
Stopping for refreshments at roadside stands,
Miles of travel watching for flea market sales,
Electronic games and puppy dog tales,
Little brother’s laugh echoing for miles around,
Counting farms and houses before the next town,
Tired and grumpy after an hour or two,
A fight or argument and a quarter is due,
A roll of quarters for each child,
Dwindling down as behavior turns wild,
Happy is the child who manages to maintain,
Happy are the parents who don’t hear them complain,
Watching billboards, children play the alphabet game,
From license plates they learn the states by name,
A day of travel with few fights and no fuss,
Is there a family as happy as us?
We have good times aplenty as we travel afar,
Though crowded together in my old red car.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Join Me for Coffee

Join Me for Coffee
“Good morning! Have a cup of coffee with me,
Relax and enjoy, what a great day it will be,
We’ll discuss the news and what went wrong,
Our place in the universe and where we belong,
We’ll talk about the drought and why we don’t have rain,
Aunt Lulu’s flowers and Rhonda’s recent weight gain,
We’ll talk about most everything except you and me,
We’re afraid to confront our feelings and what we really see,
I know you belong to another who calls me his friend,
But without you in my arms the nights never end,
Let’s talk about the weather and time spent together,
If people have noticed, will storm clouds gather?
Our love is a relationship between you and me,
We need to decide how we want it to be,
Our families, our friends, not many will approve,
Should we stand and face them, or should we move?
Join me for coffee, or do you prefer tea?
I want to know how this will be,
Open for all to see, love in the sun,
Or living in darkness and love on the run?
Join me for coffee, please don’t hesitate,
I’m ready for love, and my love won’t wait.”

If Loneliness is a Shadow

If Loneliness is a Shadow
If loneliness is a shadow who wants to dance,
She dreams alone and she’ll take a chance,
At first she doesn’t understand,
As loneliness takes her by the hand,
But as imaginary music fills the air,
Loneliness spins her around the room,
Letting her forget despair and gloom,
 When the sun sets and shadows grow,
This shadow takes her to the late, late show,
Hoping that she’ll be glad to stay,
Along with her dreams for one more day,
Her feet are nimble as she glides across the floor,
Her happiness complete and her heart soars,
No longer does she count the hours,
But time spent is time lost,
And she does not consider the cost,
Hello, Loneliness, Join her once again,
Let her dance the night away,
Tomorrow she’ll rise to a brand new day,
And she’ll dance, spinning round and round,
Keeping her smile with never a frown,
Giving her heart one more chance,
To wake in her world of lost romance,
Happiness and love will treat her well,
As she dances along a star lit trail,
An imaginary world where everything is real,
It lets her dance the way she feels,
Spinning dizzily as the music plays,
She prepares her heart for lonely days.

Think Like a Tree

Think Like a Tree
I wasn’t ready for life’s road stretching out before me,
It wasn’t as fun as I expected it to be,
I whined, I complained, until I learned,
 The lessons taught by an old fruit tree,
In the middle of an orchard the tree quietly stood,
He was the oldest and wisest in that neighborhood,
Although ancient and twisted his heart was still good,

I questioned him thoroughly about things he knew,
From seedling to adulthood, all the years he grew,
“Tell me your secret for being young so long,
How did you endure when things went wrong?
And how did you manage to stay so strong?”

The tree scratched his head, then smiled at me,
“Life will never be easy, as you can plainly see,
Adjust and be positive, and think like a tree,
There are a few things you ought to know,
Trees serve others and they’re not for show,
If a branch is barren or doesn’t grow,
There’s no reason to keep it, just let it go,
A tree needs to compete to be the best around,
But if it bears no fruit, cut it down,
It’s tragic to waste good fertile ground,”

He hesitated and drew a deep breath,
“If a tree produces it’s still not left alone,
It’s pruned each year even while grown,
It will be healthier and productive, a fact well known,
Often a tree tries too hard,
When too much is produced a tree must be thinned,
The remaining fruit will grow larger,” he said as he grinned,
“But if there’s too much fruit the limbs might break,
How soon, how much, it’s something a gardener must tweak,
A tree doesn’t want to be crowded,
It needs space to be free,
A tree needs to improve constantly, don’t you agree?”

I was ashamed of my previous actions,
Because I had been thinking only about me,
The way the old tree explained it I could see,
Life is not as harsh as I made it out to be,
If I need to be pruned to produce more in life,
I’ll adjust and be positive and think like a tree.  

Saturday, September 8, 2012

I'm Organic, Not Perfect

In the produce department,
A perfect apple caught my eye,
No blemishes, nothing amiss,
I thought, “Pesticides! Oh, my!”

Around the corner in another bin,
Organic apples awaited hugs,
They were far from perfect,
They’d been chewed on by bugs,

What a difference between the two,
The beautiful shiny outside shell,
Or one blemished just like me,
One that I understood, oh, too well,

My skin doesn’t have to please anyone,
I have become organic but not good,
I’m filled with unique qualities all my own,
My faults don’t have to be understood,

And the real me is worthy and valuable,
Not like the apple that learned to pretend,
Shiny and perfect, lying in the next bin,
Attracting those who didn’t look within,

No poisons were needed in my life,
I’m organic as anyone can see,
No artificial coatings protect me,
I’m just happy learning to be me.


Friday, September 7, 2012

Phillip Wolfe

Phillip Wolfe
The family that lived at the edge of the oak forest kept away from the town folks and rarely interacted with their neighbors.  One of the townsfolk might catch a glimpse of one of the children talking to forest animals or see the children climbing trees. Sometimes in passing conversation some peculiar circumstance might be mentioned but in general everyone thought it best to mind their own business.
 Mr. Wolfe and his wife took two walks per day, one at daybreak and the other just after the sun set and stars were beginning to pop out of the dark canopy of night.   Some of the townspeople suggested that Mrs. Wolfe was an artist and Mr. Wolfe was a writer but no one bothered to ask or do any research.   The guesses were true and they were well known in some circles. Mr. Wolfe was also a character actor appearing in many minor roles.  In the big city their names were occasionally mentioned in the society pages but in their small town they were just normal people with abnormal children.
  Mr. Wolfe owned a mom and pop mini mart five miles from their house and a mini storage facility next to town.  Although many said the Wolfe family was rich the family was careful with their money and bought forest land which they donated to the U.S. Forest Service.  
Things didn’t always go well for the family. Because the children had ongoing problems in school, Mrs. Wolfe, after teaching three years, decided to stay home and take care of the three boys and one daughter.
 In their younger years the four children were hard to describe.  They seemed to blend in with every kind of scenery or scene.  When class pictures were taken the Wolfe children never were in focus or were hidden just out of the picture.  Newcomers to the area might ask, “Where’s Johnny? Or where is Abigail?”
  After a few days the newcomers didn’t ask anymore because the regulars would simply turn away glassy-eyed and ignore the question.  It was said that Johnny and Abigail could hide in shadows or cracks in the walls.  Of course that was nonsense, or at least it couldn’t be proven.
The two younger brothers, Justin and Phillip, were even harder to explain and even harder to ignore.  Their movements were quick and their voices too loud for indoor activities and the Wolfe house couldn’t contain their restless activity.
 Outdoors the children were at home, especially when they were in shady areas or partial darkness. When twilight drew near and nocturnal animals were shuffling about, the two boys became restless, energized and alert.  On nights when the full moon swallowed up the sky, the two younger brothers roamed the countryside, and went racing about, carefree and wild.
Both smiled constantly, but if they felt threatened or saw someone bullied, their demeanor changed.  The smiles changed to snarls and the fight was on. On several separate occasions bullies challenged Phillip and Justin but the battles were always short.  A whirl of motion here, a snap and a growl, and the bullies were on their backs, pleading for mercy.  Although it didn’t last long, peace reigned for awhile.
When they were in their twenties they appeared suave and sophisticated. All of them had been exposed to stage and cinema and were anxious to see if the thespian life was their calling.
Johnny and Abigail took small parts hoping the roles would expand.  Justin and Phillip were not sure they wanted to be actors so they held back.
Justin learned a lot about himself while protecting others.  After the first time he had come to someone’s defense, Justin wanted to be a deputy keeping law and order.  In his opinion every person deserved equal treatment. 
Phillip, the most unusual of the four, had special qualities.  Everyone believed he had ESP because he had the uncanny ability to look at someone and know his next move.  It was thought that Phillip could track any animal across rocky terrain or across bodies if water.  Phillip knew his abilities but he let people think his powers were unlimited.
Once, during search party training exercises, Phillip demonstrated what he could do.  It was recorded on film by a deputy and verified by several others.
“Philip bent low to the ground, took a quick sniff, tilted his head back and howled, long and blood-curdling.  He then proceeded to track a mountain lion to its den.”

 The Wolfe family had long been fans of the Theatre and claimed they had several well-known relatives, one of the most notable being Virginia Wolfe.  Abigail had taken voice lessons and seemed destined to be a star but bright lights frightened her.  Even after therapy she seemed blinded and unsure of herself.  She was the first Wolfe to face disappointment in acting. 
Johnny, the next in line, was accused of pawing several leading ladies.  His chance to become a leading man was diminished. He was ruled out of future productions and became the second disappointment.
 Justin seemed a shoo-in for the role of a leading man.  Handsome and well-liked, Justin wanted to be the hero and win the lady’s heart.  However, in his first role the leading man was a villain. In Little Red Riding Hood Justin wanted to transform the wolf into a good Wolfe.  His request was turned down and he dropped out of acting to begin a career in law enforcement.

Phillip finally tried out for a part.  He wasn’t trying to make it big, but merely get his foot in the door.  He learned his lines quickly and easily.  Becoming too involved was his major concern.  Could he actually lose a stage fight or give up a fair maiden?  It was difficult but he managed to stay out of trouble.
Around town, trouble seemed to haunt him. Usually he sat by himself, away from groups, just watching others and studying their mannerisms for future roles.  One night he drifted into a small bar located just off the main part of town.  He was sitting quietly on a stool sipping a margarita and listening to country songs.  The band was good but not great.  There was a change in rhythm and intensity when a lady with a bass guitar took charge. She was good.  Phillip was impressed as her fingers danced across the strings and the music came alive.  After a series of songs she stopped and beckoned to Phillip.
“I need a drink,” she said into the microphone.     She leaned her guitar against the wall and out of harm’s way.  “Are you going to buy this girl a drink?’ she asked as she sidled up to Phillip.  Her gray eyes watched closely, measuring his slightest reaction.
“My pleasure,” he replied.  “Bartender, give the lady whatever she’s been drinking.  Just put it on my tab.”
He stood up and scooted his chair towards her.  “Have a seat and rest your weary bones.”
It was evident to Phillip that men rarely treated her like a lady.  She blushed and said, “I’m Kristine. I’m glad to meet you.”
Phillip got up slowly, extended his hand, and said dramatically, “I’m the Lone Wolfe, the only one fortunate enough to meet a beautiful lady like you.”
The bar was crowded and the room was warm.  There were only a handful of women and the men were frustrated and growing meaner by the minute.
“It’s hot in here,” she announced. “I need cool air.”  She fanned herself for effect and then started towards the door.  Glancing at Phillip she asked, “Well, are you coming or not?”
 The situation was strange and Phillip knew instinctively that something was wrong.  The hair on the back of his neck had risen.  Still, he was curious if this was a set-up.
“Of course, darling.   It’s cool outside and the moon is full and beautiful.  It’s something to howl about.”
“You’re just too funny,” Kristine said. “Now tell me who you are and what brings you here tonight.”
“Phillip.  That’s my name.  I just wanted to hear a good band and relax. It was a bonus when I saw you.”
She led him to the parking lot before she said quietly, “I think you’re a narc.  We don’t like troublemakers around here.”  She wouldn’t be alone and confronting him like that. 
A slight sound caught Phillip’s attention.  “I think we have company.”
In the shadows several men hurried towards them.   Phillip mentally noted five men, all large and muscular.   
Kristine moved away from him.  “Goodbye, stranger.  You should have stayed in the country.”
Phillip moved swiftly at the edge of moonlight, becoming both shadow and reflection.  Phillip knocked the first two down easily with jabs to their throats.  He was too fast and elusive.  “Is this a ghost we’re trying to catch?” one man panted. He circled them, attacked, and destroyed their confidence.  In short order he left them huddled in the middle of the parking lot, whimpering and shivering.
Phillip strolled through the door and sat down.  He ordered a drink.  Kristine stared at him in surprise. 
Phillip raised his glass.  “Here’s to you.  When your friends recover tell them that not everyone is a pushover.”
Phillip’s reputation as a fighter led him to new roles.  Before long he had several roles in martial arts films playing alongside Buck Morris and Mackie Shan.

The Stone Princess

“Why am I here?”
The thought goes through my mind,
There must be a reason,
But the answer is hard to find,

“The place is yours while you’re there,
Treat it like it’s your own,
It needs some work but you’ll see,
It’ll make you a very nice home,”

It was not entirely true,
The offer he made to me,
For hidden behind the scenes,
Was the power I could not see,

“Do what she wants to keep the peace,”
Her heart has turned to stone,
And I could feel her words strike,
As they pierced me to the bone,

If I must live under her rule,
And bow to her every whim,
Then I cannot stay in this place,
And let my light grow dim,

I want a place to call my own,
To rescue or restore,
And should I maintain it well,
It’ll last a few years more,

If the stone princess should follow,
In an effort to keep control,
She’ll lose all she was meant to be,
Her heart, her mind, her soul.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

She Doesn't See Me

With her large beautiful eyes,

She sees everything,

But she doesn’t see me,

She’s silently on the prowl,

Hoping this is her lucky night,

But she doesn’t see me,

She’s dressed for attracting attention,

She flashes a lot of skin,

I’m blinded by the glare,

But she doesn’t see me,

Batting her eyelashes at buff young men,

She’s lost her winning edge,

And that she cannot see,

But someone wants to dance,

And that someone happens to be me,

She thinks she’s desirable and a hot commodity,

And she says I’m too wrinkled and worn,

I’m on the record but no longer wanted,

My feelings are ripped and torn,

Left as unclaimed property,

And shoved to the side,

She’s forgotten that I love her,

Even while I’m crying inside.

Beware of the Hypnotist

I’m not usually a prude,

Although I’m rather quiet and shy,

What happened one night when out with friends,

Made me seem like a different guy,

I went up on stage with others of my group,

“Take a deep breath,” I heard someone say,

“Relax and enjoy what your mind lets you do,

Each of you will have fun today!”

I’m not sure how long I stayed,

But my mind was completely at ease,

One of my friends asked if I’d dance again,

“That was an awesome striptease,”

“That’s ridiculous,” I angrily said to her,

She grinned, “Oh, you don’t realize you were a hit,

But I know what I saw, and I saw enough,

I’ve got pictures on the cam to prove it,”

Those cam pictures looked a lot like me,

I was dancing amidst the raucous din,

Evidently I was having the time of my life,

But how could I show so much skin?

The hypnotist snapped her fingers,

I got dressed with pomp and style,

I fell back into a total trance,

Except for my great big smile,

If you should go downtown for fun,

And there’s a late, late, show,

Be prepared to divulge your secrets,

That only you should know….

Total Pageviews